


0.3 Seconds

by deceptigeek



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Inglorious 25th of November aka anniversary of MTMTE 47, Lost Light open ending, M/M, Minibot Squad, Post-Transformers: Lost Light 25, Tailgate can't keep a secret but neither can Cyclonus from Whirl, pretty much a wedding reception
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:07:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27719984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deceptigeek/pseuds/deceptigeek
Summary: In fairness to Tailgate, he did manage to keep the secret for a little longer than Whirl once guessed.
Relationships: Cyclonus/Tailgate (Transformers)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 54





	0.3 Seconds

**Author's Note:**

> There's a celebration of cygate happening over on twitter for the anniversary of #47, so of course I had to write something for it!
> 
> Teeechnically it's the next day by now where I am, but I know it's still the 25th in some timezones, so I'm counting this as a success and I hope you lot enjoy it regardless!

It was subjective, and not something that you could say with total honesty was actually visible, but as he walked into  _ Swerve’s _ Tailgate certainly gave off the  _ sense _ that he was physically vibrating. His visor was over-bright, but it kept flickering, as though he was aware of it and trying to tamp it down - and even for a usually cheerful mech, that amount of spring in someone's step just wasn't natural. 

Swerve, suspecting an Occurrence, waved his fellow minibot over to the bar. Even walking, Tailgate moved just a little too quickly; whether because of an excess of energy, or because if he'd taken any longer he'd have started to skip. Whatever was on his mind certainly seemed like good news, rather than anything making him anxious. He was just really terrible at hiding it. 

"... He's definitely supposed to be keeping  _ something _ secret, right? It's not just me?" 

That was Rewind, who gave Tailgate a literal side-eye once he was in range - as opposed to Swerve’s metaphorical one, seeing how Swerve was facing the other two across the bar, and was therefore at an unfair disadvantage. 

Tailgate, somehow, failed to notice any hint of scrutiny whatsoever. 

And Rewind, it turned out, wasn't there to play games. With a glint of determination deep in his optics, he drained his glass and swivelled around on his stool with so much force, he almost overshot it. 

"So." 

"Hm?" Tailgate, browsing today's specials board, didn't even glance over. 

“Is ‘hm’ really all you’ve got to say for yourself?”

“Why shouldn’t it be?” 

Was that a hint of defensiveness, Swerve wondered, as an idea struck.

“Actually,” he piped up. “You’re right. You don’t always have that much to say for yourself.” He just about managed to only grin inwardly, as Tailgate shot him a grateful look - which was the blue mini’s first mistake. 

“In terms of how much you’ve normally got to say about  _ Cyclonus _ , though - I agree with Rewind. We’re getting really abnormal readings at the minute.”

Hurriedly, Tailgate turned to look back at the board, mumbling something indistinct. He wasn’t fast enough to hide that his optics had widened behind his visor, however, and as Swerve watched a faint flush started to bloom along the top edge of his mask. Feeling pretty smug, Swerve congratulated himself on his guess.

Rewind, gleeful, leaned closer in. 

“You’re  _ sure _ you don’t have anything to tell us about Cyclonus?”

“Nope,” squeaked Tailgate, his voice noticeably higher than usual. 

Swerve and Rewind exchanged glances, and Swerve had to duck under the bar, pretending to look for a glass, so that he wouldn’t burst out laughing. Overhead, he heard Rewind say, “Seriously, nothing? He’s not told you what he thinks about Whirl’s new workshop, or given you another singing lesson”- 

“Or given you a ‘singing lesson’?” Swerve interjected, grinning, as he resurfaced. Tailgate spluttered and almost slipped sideways off his stool; Rewind blinked, then frowned. 

“Ugh. I could’ve  _ really  _ done without that image - no offence, Tailgate, it’s not you, it’s more…  _ Cyclonus _ , doing…  _ eurgh _ .” He shuddered. 

“Got it,” said Tailgate cheerfully, regaining his balance. “You’re not insulting my looks, just my taste.”

“I dunno, Rewind,” Swerve blurted out, scattered memories of gossip over the years springing to mind - and out through his mouth before he could shut it. “You might kinda be in the minority there. You’re telling me you’ve honestly never considered”- 

“Hey!” Tailgate, all of a sudden, drew himself upright, indignant. “I am still here, y’know, and you’re talking about  _ my _ ”- 

He cut off very abruptly, clapping his servos over his mask. 

Swerve and Rewind stared. 

“ _ Your _ …” Rewind prompted, a hopeful-sounding note of intrigue in his voice. 

Tailgate sighed, and lowered his hands. “Okay, listen, please don’t tell anyone. We’re supposed to be letting people know this evening, but Whirl already found out from Cyclonus, and he bet me I wouldn’t be able to keep the secret, and I know I just proved him right but  _ he _ doesn’t have to know that....” 

He leaned in towards the other two, visor now painfully bright. 

“Cyclonus…  _ may _ officially be my conjunx endura, as of last night.”

“... So what you’re saying is, you’ve definitely had a ‘singing lesson’ since I last saw you,” said Swerve, wiggling his eyebrows - at the same time as Rewind crowed, “Oh my god, he finally got his act together!” 

“ _ Shh! _ ” Tailgate hissed, with a frantic flapping of his servo in Rewind’s direction. “And also - what’s that supposed to mean?! Not you Swerve, I know what you meant, even with the terrible euphemism. ‘Got his act together’?”

“Well,” said Swerve, “to be fair, the epic love confession was after you nearly died for what, the tenth time?”

“Are we counting both of them in that, or just Tailgate?” Rewind added. His visor shone with amusement even as Tailgate glared. 

"I sort of feel like I should be defending Cyclonus' honour now, so thanks for that." Tailgate paused, with a thoughtful tilt of his head. "... Or I could just tell Whirl what you've said."

"Primus, okay, point taken." Rewind gave a snort of laughter that genuinely sounded a bit nervous, to Swerve’s audials. "Honestly though, I am happy for you. I'm gonna say it's been long enough, and I promise, this time I just mean because you deserve nice things. Even if our idea of what counts as nice is  _ very _ different." 

Tailgate rolled his optics. 

"Think you can do better than that, Swerve? It's not a high bar."

Swerve could. He set a shot of Old Corroder down in front of Tailgate. "On the house!" 

"That's more like it!" 

Rewind watched Tailgate knock his drink back, before turning a suspicious expression on Swerve. 

"What is this, favouritism? You wouldn't comp any of mine or Domey's drinks for our anniversary."

"Yeah, cause you tried that four times in three months - when you were both completely gone already."

Not to mention that… well. It was a bit out of character for him, but privately Swerve liked the idea of bookending things this way. He still remembered the day Cyclonus had walked in and received a free drink - Old Corroder, just the same as Tailgate - and he remembered the aftermath, too. 

This day would end very differently, if Swerve had any say about it: he was already formulating a plan. 

When Tailgate eventually slid off his seat and jittered his way back out of the bar, he was followed by not a few pairs of curious optics. Obviously, the conversation going on between the minibots had looked intriguing on some level. 

Rodimus, at the other end of the bar, waved for Swerve’s attention, then jerked a thumb back towards the door. "That was totally about what I think it was about, right?" 

Swerve finally let his smile take on the vaguely impish tint that'd been threatening to spill over for ages. He turned to address the rest of his patrons. 

"How does everyone feel about Last-Minute Theme Night: Surprise Party Edition?" 

* * *

The celebration had been in full swing for hours now, but part of Tailate’s mind was still stuck marvelling: both at the surprise, and the fact that Cyclonus had not only been genuinely moved, but expressed as much out loud. How many times, in the past, had he watched his future conjunx endura ( _ his conjunx!!! _ ) nurse a solitary drink in the corner, not speaking a word?

By this point in the evening, though, Tailgate could tell that Cyclonus had started to flag a bit. Understandable, really, when you considered that they’d been gearing themselves up for a quiet chat or three as they spread the news, maybe a couple of rounds of drinks; the Clavis Aurea didn’t have any customs beyond honouring the ceremony itself, and after this long and so many hardships, Tailgate was more than happy to keep things low-key, since the important part was that _it’d_ _finally happened!_

Instead, they’d walked into the middle of all…  _ this _ . The bar was set up the same sort of way it’d been for the party with the  _ Vis Vitalis _ crew - and this time around, Cyclonus had wasted no time asking Tailgate to dance. Even once they’d decided to rest their feet, the room was packed with guests who’d happily picked up the slack. In a strange way, _ Swerve’s _ seemed to have expanded in order to comfortably fit so many people… or perhaps it was just that everyone here fit together comfortably enough, even if they were physically a bit squashed.

And really by now, they all seemed to be getting on just fine enjoying themselves without the happy couple needing to be present, which suited Tailgate perfectly well. 

It suited him even better that Whirl was starting to get restless with overcharge. A word from Tailgate, a glance over to confirm that Cyclonus was hovering increasingly close to the edge of the crowd, and the ‘copter bounced up from his seat and sprinted over to the drinks table. 

He grabbed a bowl of engex by its lip, swung it into the air (dousing Fulcrum in the process), then with the flat of a claw sent it soaring over the helms of everyone on the dancefloor. There was a shout of horror that sounded like it might have come from Minimus. 

Tailgate  _ had _ asked for a distraction, to be fair. 

Cyclonus startled a little, when Tailgate darted through the crush of people to grab his hand. 

"Tailgate, what -?" 

"We're sneaking out!" the minibot stage-whispered, pulling Cyclonus towards the door. "Whirl's got it covered." 

As he allowed himself to be guided along, a knot of tension seemed to unwind in Cyclonus' frame; his shoulders slumped the minutest amount, Tailgate noticed, whilst scanning the room to check that nobody had spotted their disappearing act. A second later, Tailgate caught Swerve’s optic by accident. Swerve stared for a moment - then smiled and winked. 

They slipped into the corridor without anyone else catching them. 

“So I know you didn’t say anything,” Tailgate began, “and I know you  _ were _ having fun, but I’d like to think I can tell when things are getting a bit…” 

He trailed off as Cyclonus knelt, using their still-joined servos to bring Tailgate’s knuckles to his lips. 

“Thank you,” said Cyclonus, simply. “Now, where were you planning on spiriting me off to?”

“Uh. Yeah.” Tailgate blinked and shook himself a little. “I was thinking, maybe the observation deck? Seeing how pretty much the whole crew showed up for this thing. It should be empty.”

It was. There was probably something in that - the thought that so many people had wanted to celebrate for Cyclonus and Tailgate’s sake, there wasn’t anyone left to wander on up here. 

Perhaps it really just meant that a bunch of people liked having an excuse for a party, but Tailgate’s first idea didn’t seem too terribly far-fetched, and that in itself felt like it was worth something. 

There were still stars in this new universe, casting their faint light through the huge window. Even that light, though, had a different sort of quality about it; Perceptor had talked at some point, Tailgate was sure, about different elemental structures generating different colours. With the first planet - or thing that was like a planet, at least - of their journey having been discovered and locked onto just recently, Tailgate didn’t doubt that new, more startling changes would be revealed in time. 

Cyclonus appeared to be thinking along similar lines, as he sank down to sit on a shallow flight of steps. He smiled at Tailgate when the minibot joined him, curling into his side, then returned his gaze to the sky. 

“It’s weird,” Tailgate murmured. “I keep forgetting that you’ve had more experience of universe-hopping than anyone else on this ship.”

“The Dead Universe had no stars,” said Cyclonus quietly. “Nor did it have you. I think I like this one much better, on balance.”

“ _ I _ think I’d be offended if you didn’t, considering last night and all.”

“Which part?” Cyclonus asked, and Tailgate hummed in what he hoped was a mysterious fashion. 

“Y’know,” he said, after a moment, “it really doesn’t feel like a whole lot’s changed. Other than like, a word. I’m gonna have to stop myself from annoying everyone by using ‘my conjunx’ instead of your name, for a few months, but apart from that…” 

“In the scheme of things, I suppose it’s not as big an upheaval as cheating death as many times as we have. More people can claim to have completed the ritus, than to have done that.”

Tailgate laughed. “Rewind said almost exactly the same thing.”

“And what did you say to that?”

“I told him I’d have to fight him for the sake of your honour.”

“You obviously didn’t follow through.”

“How can you tell?”

“I didn’t hear about Swerve selling tickets.”

With that, Tailgate couldn’t help dissolving into a fit of giggles. Cyclonus, beside him, was silent - but it was a faintly smug silence, the minibot was sure. He’d gotten good at telling different kinds apart, when it came to Cyclonus. 

He would only continue to get better, for ages and ages with any luck. Maybe also with the help of Cyclonus’ stubborn indestructibility, and their shared fierce protectiveness. 

“Tailgate?”

“Hm?”

“Why are you staring at me?”

“Well, why shouldn’t I?” Tailgate felt his visor curve into a smile. “You’re not exactly bad to look at, and you  _ did _ just decide to be stuck with me.” 

“‘Not exactly bad to look at,’” said Cyclonus, with an amused quirk of an eyebrow. “High praise.”

“I mean, if you’re angling for me to call you gorgeous instead, that can be arranged, cause it’s the truth.”

Cyclonus, very suddenly, turned his face to the sky again. 

“Are you…?” Tailgate scrambled onto his knees for a better look. “You’re blushing!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh,  _ this _ , maybe?” 

The minibot reached up to cradle the side of his conjunx’s face, fingertips brushing the high cheekbone - and Cyclonus, seemingly in spite of himself, leaned into the touch. His optics were dim, glowing softly, full of the same devotion that’d been there yesterday, and the day before that, and for so long now that Tailgate could no longer remember them looking any different. 

“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life exploring this place with you.”

“The Lost Light?” Cyclonus’ tone was teasing. “I thought you were already familiar.”

“This  _ universe _ ,” Tailgate pressed, and the wry quirk of Cyclonus’ mouth pulled into something much more sincere. “I’m gonna make sure it’s the opposite of what you went through the first time.”

“I… That might be optimistic. This ship was a magnet for trouble where we came from; I don’t see why it would be any different in a new universe.” 

“Yeah, well, if I have to fight against the whole damn thing, then I will.” The fierceness in his own voice sort of surprised Tailgate. “You know I will. You know  _ why _ . ‘Cause I love you.”

Cyclonus shifted, as though he’d almost ducked his head - but only almost. 

This time, he didn’t look away.


End file.
